The Affection Intoxication
by teoriapostmoderna
Summary: [Spoilers for 7.20 The Relationship Diremption] "She wanted him to remember everything they ever did together – he had his wonderful brain to do that."


_**Author's notes:**_ _This is a missing scene fic set during _The Relationship Diremption,_ episode set to air on April 10th. Needless to say, **spoilers ahead.** FYI, there is a reference to another one of my fics in here, _The Football Relation_, but it's not important or even necessary for you to read that. I just thought I'd throw it out there in case someone thinks while reading: "Hey, that's not canon!" :)_

_As always, thank you so much to my beta Melanie (ZephyrCamida) for the endless support, all my fandom friends and everyone that comments, favourites or simply reads my stories. You make my day._

_This story is dedicated to someone close to me who just said: "Shamy is dumb and Amy makes me yawn". Thank you for breaking my heart into a million pieces, I love you too._

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**The Affection Intoxication**

Amy very much liked her boyfriend's lanky figure − and in that moment she was extremely grateful for it.

Helping Sheldon get from his spot to his bed was turning out to be quite the workout. He wasn't incapable of walking on his own, but he had given his whole body and weight in her hands anyway. With good reason: it wasn't a marathon distance from one point to the other, and he had almost tripped three times already. It was like carrying a dead body, one that smelled of talc and reeked of alcohol at the same time.

This was the second time in less than a year she had to take care of him while drunk. The memories of Thanksgiving opened up in her mind like colourful pages of a book − that day appeared to be a lifetime away. She recalled how his inebriated advances made her both content and distraught − he was throwing himself over her, yes, but he wasn't in his usual state of mind. And his November state of mind was secure hand-holds and warm hugs, not... what he had been doing that day. And yes, the saying does state drunks tell the truth − and yes, she did kiss him while not-at-all-sober herself (her mind was getting sidetracked at every thought), but that was the point. Not remembering the first kiss she ever gave her boyfriend tore a hole in her brain for the longest time, and even now that she had every information of the kisses they shared stored and sealed in her memory, she'd still rather have a decisively sober Sheldon take her by the hips and plant a kiss on her lips than a drunk Sheldon sloppily trying to cup a feel in the back of a car, with other people present with them in said car. When she imagined those same scenarios in her head, they all happened − just not the drunk part.

She wanted him to remember everything they ever did together − he had his wonderful brain to do that.

With her free hand, she turned the knob of his bedroom door and switched on the light. She then encouraged him: "Come on, let's get you to bed" and smiled. Always show a smile to drunks.

"I need to change" he said.

"Are you sure you can do that?" she asked with a hint of worry.

"Help me" he stuttered, raising his voice halfway.

Amy furrowed her eyebrows; that was strange, he was quite the talkative drunk. He slurred through his words only when nervous, or scared.

As if the answer was laid out in front of her − in a matter of seconds that seemed to be both in slow motion and fast forward − Sheldon removed his arm from around her shoulder, grabbed her hand and dragged her on the bed along with him when he tripped on his second step backwards. Not the wisest choice.

Her breasts ended up just above two inches from his face − the only thing stopping them from smothering him were her arms, solidly planted on the bed to his sides. She had been tripped enough by bullies, classmates and friends alike to have good reflexes by now.

Who was under her didn't seem to register they were this close to breaking bones in both of their bodies. In fact, his own hands were currently busy running up and down from her waist to her hips. A shiver jolted through her.

"Sheldon, stop" she said with her eyes closed.

"I just want to touch you" he grinned.

She regained her composure. "You know the rules."

"I'm your boyfriend, of course I−"

"Section 35, Touching, Addendum 5." She took a big breath. "_The Boyfriend and The Girlfriend abide to not touching the other party in places hereafter listed while intoxicated unless in grave danger or otherwise life threatening situations. Clause A: the receiving party may still decide whether or not the attentions received are considered sexual in nature and therefore prohibited under said circumstances._"

She was ready to list those places when Sheldon stopped kneading her flesh as if she was bread dough, rolled his eyes and made a face for dramatic effect. She had to resist a laugh. Thankfully, Amy thought, she wasn't pulling his cute face − that would almost be unresistable. Almost... not really. In her fantasies. Maybe.

"I'm sure you remember. We added it to the Agreement after Thanksgiving."

"I held onto your hips to save your life, that's why you're on top of me."

He then shrugged.

"Your hands are still on my hips" she simply noted._ Holding for dear life_, she thought right after.

He gave her a look. "You're no fun."

"Relationship Agreement" she reminded him again.

"Meanie" he whispered under his breath as he let her go. "Can I hug you?"

"Can we get you in your pajamas first?" He could get really annoying when drunk. Duty's first. "Do I need to quote Section 4, Addendum 10?"

"Are you sure you're not the one that wants to touch me?"

She played a pretty sarcastic reply in her head, but unlike him she was sober enough to know where to drop an argument. That, and she was already avoiding to mention at all the P-word. She knew what buttons not to push.

Careful to not brush against him, she slowly moved from her all-fours position to a standing one. Getting on her knees, she said: "Get up while I take off your shoes."

"That's not on command" was his answer.

He either misunderstood what Amy told him or her dirty mind was working up again.

"I can't get it up just because you say so."

...it wasn't.

She just hummed nervously as a response while she started to untie his shoelaces.

"Well, that's not entirely true..." he said after a bit. "I could show you."

Amy froze in place; his legs were open, so she was directly facing what he could show her.

Sheldon was already unbuttoning his pants. He did that before, but she couldn't count on him to not take the next step this time. She wanted to close her eyes to not see, but her mind wasn't registering the input.

His thumbs dug under the band of his undergarments. They stayed there.

"On the other hand, I read on Cosmo alcohol impairs erections. That's not gonna work" he noted, serious. "Or maybe you could help... I'm not so sure..."

After that, he just stopped. His feeble attention span probably wandered somewhere else.

Her boyfriend's nonchalant attitude helped Amy blocking out everything that came out of his mouth − this wasn't really him speaking. Or rather, he was... but those were thoughts that would get filtered in his brain at least ten times before reaching his mouth and never come out.

Still, this wasn't the first time she heard him speak with that context in mind. They did have their first time via D&D, after all. She could attest how Sheldon's eyes pierced right through her as he described his action in a low tone, on that bed, in that bedroom: "Slowly, I enter you."

_Focus Fowler. That's sober Sheldon._

Maybe it was the fact that she was in the same room alone with her boyfriend, the same man that − under alcohol's influence − had no problem slapping her on the butt in front of others. Maybe the acquired physicality since the year before made everything count more than ever and−

Maybe she was simply a tiny bit afraid of seeing her boyfriend in that light now that things weren't so muddled.

After she helped him take his pants off, his t-shirts had to go, too − that took some coordination and team work. Five minutes passed and Sheldon was left in nothing but his stripey socks and white tighties covering him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had gotten very quiet, avoiding her eyes. His hands were cupping his genitals.

Amy cleared her throat. "I'll grab your pajamas, hold on."

Firstly, she put his clothes in the hamper after folding them, then found his red plaid pajamas in a near drawer. The fabric was soft to the touch, like all his clothes. They smelled clean − they all did, even the ones she just put away.

As soon as she realized her stupid thoughts were making herself embarrassed, she turned around... only to find Sheldon under the covers, staring at her with a goofy grin.

"Come here" he said.

"Aren't you putting these on first?"

She raised the clothes, showing them to him.

"Please."

With a sigh, she put his pajamas back in their place. As she stepped closer to the bed, he patted it a couple of times.

"Sit." With that, he moved his body in a v-shape to make space for her. She did as was told. Their bodies were touching, the sheets the only barrier between them. This was her boyfriend in bed, and she was sitting there with him... it gave her the impression of an invasion of personal space.

"Are you staying the night?" he asked.

"No" she said softly.

He tried again: "Why? You did last time."

"Last time was different. You were vomiting all over the place and it was my duty as a girlfriend to keep you clean and under close watch."

He bit his lip. "What if I want you to stay?"

"Alcohol is impairing your judgement" she dismissed him.

"But I need you to stay" he begged, dragging the last syllable.

"And I need to sleep and get to work tomorrow."

Amy smiled again, encouragingly. She knew arguing with a drunk didn't solve anything, but trying didn't cost anything either.

"You can sleep here, next to me" he offered.

He shuffled under the covers. She could swear she felt something brushing against her lower b− _oh._

"Next time" She wanted to cut him short. "When-you're-sober next time."

Sheldon's fingers had been playing with hers since she joined him on his side. A hint of her boyfriend in the midst of alcohol.

But he wasn't done.

"Is this the woman's way of making herself feel desired in a relationship? A strategically placed no?" he mocked her. "...I read that on Cosmo, too" he explained.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek as a goodbye; she lingered a second too long, and he took the chance to grab her head in what was supposedly an embrace. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. She breathed in to relax and there it was, the alcohol coming from his mouth. She did try to support herself and not fall completely over him, but her hands were placed in a way only her bestie could use for that purpose while doing yoga. He was completely oblivious, stroking her hair.

"Goodnight, Sheldon."

"Goodnight, Amy."

She waited for a few seconds to pass before saying: "Now that we've said goodbye to each other, you can let me go."

"Aren't we kissing?"

"It's not Date Night" she teased him.

"Fine" he huffed.

With a frown on his face, he let her go. She wondered if he would remember any of this in the morning. As per contract, she had to tell him anyway.

All the while she got up from the bed, out of the bedroom, shut the light and closed the door behind her, she kept sneaking side glances at Sheldon, whose eyes were set on her, following her every move. She got him in bed, but he was wide awake. She peeked from behind the door, and this time a genuine smile formed on her lips. Amy looked at him, thinking one last time for that evening just how cute he was. Sheldon smiled back; his smile was all teeth.


End file.
